Long Time Coming
by Clear Chronic Depression
Summary: Tragedy is always ready to strike. Chase learns this when Zoey dies on impact in his car, while he was swerving to miss a mysterious red head. Left in misery, he seeks her out. Will this be the begining of something new?
1. & Misery Begins Now

**Authors Note**: I know that all of my stories in the past have been lacking… Well, have been lacking an IQ and a bottle of beer, so to speak. But now that I have more than half a brain, I shall try to write this one better. Okay? Okay. ;)

**Disclaimer:** If I owned anything, why would I be stuck writing this? Anyways. Nothing is mine, besides the plot and… Just the plot is mine.

**Long Time Coming By Brizendine**

A blank stare was cast upon the car as it shone in the bright sunlight, but Zoey grimaced with impatience. Where was Chase? He had said he would meet her here, and what did she come to find? No Chase. She was hungry, too, and he had said he'd either bring lunch or take her out. It was their last and final year at Pacific Coast Academy, and it was a withdrawn temper that Zoey realized she had so much to do, and so much left to see. She had never liked teaching, so it was basically impossible for her to imagine herself taking that position, and walking around campus as an adult would look creepy.

And so Zoey was stuck being miserable… What fun, right? Just then, she heard footsteps behind her, and Chase was soon in her sights, panting like he had just run a marathon… Or two.

"Sorry." Was his only, rather panted, response to her eyebrow raise.

"Whatever, let's just go, alright?" He nodded to her comment, and got into the car, slamming the bright red door and waiting for Zoey to climb in.

Chase had gotten over his long time crush on her a while ago, and now most of the ladies at PCA liked him. In his opinion, it was slightly weird, but okay all the same. "So…," Chase mumbled.

Zoey didn't respond. What was up with her, anyways? God. It was like all of a sudden it was just for the money.

"I want Sushi." Zoey commanded, her blonde hair creating a sunlit pathway as the car zoomed along campus.

"Okay." Chase responded, a shrug resting upon his shoulders. In truth, they could have just walked to the Sushi store, since it was on campus, but… Zoey just really seemed to like his car, for whatever reason.

But then, all of a sudden, Chase halted the car, swerving to miss a red headed female walking in the middle of the street, having not seen the car.

All Chase could remember was Zoey's scream, and the car spitting sparks before unconsciousness took him.

The beep of machinery filled Chase's ears as he groggily opened his eyes, only seconds after regretting doing so because of not only the bright lights around him, but the mangled and bloody body of Zoey Brooks on the hospital bed next to his own. Damn it.

"Ah, he's finally awake." A doctor entered the room, professionalism sweeping around her like a hula skirt.

"Wha - ? What happened?" Chase croaked out, sitting up against the pillow unwillingly as the doctor, who was female, poured sticky and distasteful medicine down his throat.

"Car crash. Lucky, Miss Robbins, the girl you missed, apparently, called for help right away. Miss Brooks…," The doctor's tone softened as she glanced at the mangled blonde on the opposite side of the room, "Miss Brooks wasn't so lucky. I'm deeply sorry for your loss, Mr. Matthews." The doctor left, leaving Chase to wallow in his own misery.


	2. & She's The Key

**Authors Note:** Okay, just to clear up a bit of a mistake on my part… My new penname is: Clear Chronic Depression. Okay? Bye, bye, Brizendine. Anyways. Please review and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Disclaimer:** If I was the creator, why would I be HERE? Nickelodeon owns Zoey, I own the plot, babes.

**She's The Key To Healing My Heart – Chapter Two**

_She's gone…_For the longest time, it seemed, those were the only words that rang throughout Chase Matthew's mind as he stared listlessly up at the white ceiling, the cracks in his heart showing through as silent tears trailed down his face. How could it be? How could Zoey, who seemed so invincible, be dead? It was heartbreaking. He had never gotten the chance to kiss her, or even tell her he loved her.

No, somehow, nature's forces did manage to keep them apart in the end. It was his third day in the hospital, his parents had been contacted and they sat on the chairs in the corner of the room, watching him cry. He ignored them; it was too painful to deal with. It was all too much, and all too soon, at that. Zoey's body had been taken out the first day when he had awakened, about five minutes after the nurse had left.

Chase sniffed, not caring about his supposed manliness at all times, and still further ignoring his parents' pleads to talk to them, tell them all about it. How could he! He was heartbroken, damn it. Why could they see that? Finally, after closing his eyes for about ten minutes, he heard them retreat. The only thing he had said to them since they arrived had been, "I'm not going back home." And they had allowed him, and so, thinking back on that moment, he supposed they had seen he was heartbroken… Maybe even the tiniest bit.

Chase was healed. '_Only physically, though.' _He thought, after being brought back to PCA by his parents. After kissing them goodbye numbly, he saw with his own eyes, and with relief, too, that PCA had been told of Zoey dying. Therefore, he wouldn't have to go through it again and tell them himself. Seeing Michael, his heart didn't lighten, and his eyes drifted to the ground.

It was so hard not to cry.

"Hey, man. You okay?" Michael asked, trying to be cheerful for him.

"What do you think?" Chase responded; hurt clear in his eyes as they reflected the ground.

"I think… I think you need time." Michael replied, swinging an arm around Chase's shoulders. Chase gave him an entirely weird, and numb, look. Michael dropped his arm, and waved, sighing as he left.

Chase needed time. That was it, right? A four year crush. A broken heart in the end. '_Not exactly the easiest think to take a pain reliever for...'_

Wait. That was it. Suicide. He'd commit suicide. Because, without Zoey, what was the point?

Chase turned, his rather bushy hair blowing in the wind, and came face to face with a familiar red head.

"You." He spat out, eyes going wide with numbness and shock combined.

"Me?" The girl asked, pointing to herself after glancing around.

"Yeah, _you_. You made me crash. You fucking killed her. _You killed her._"

Chase grabbed the girl and shook her, tears streaming down his face. The girl stopped him after a few tries, and even though he tried to push away, she held his shoulders firmly, concern and shock in her eyes.

"Who are you?" She asked, eyebrows raised and long red hair blowing in the wind.

"Chase Matthews." Chase replied, a glare forming in his eyes but pure confusion growing on his lips. "And you?"

'_Maybe she can help me… No! What! God. Fuck it all.' _

The girl half smiled. "Chelsea Robbins."


	3. & Karma

**Authors Note:** This chapter might be slightly crappy, since it's 9 in the morning and I went to sleep at 4 AM.

**Disclaimer:** Nick owns Zoey 101. The plot is mine, and Chelsea is me.

**To Reviewers: **

Thank you to _xxBritsterxx_! It_ will_ continue, so please keep reading.

An awesome thanks to _Lady Riddle_! That was an awesome review and I'm glad you enjoyed it.

And last but not least: Topazchick08. Thanks! And yeah, I don't really like Zoey. I'm more of a Chase kind of person. ;)

And now…

** .&. Karma – Chapter Three By Clear Chronic Depression**

'_This is weird.' _Chase thought, staring up at the ceiling in his PCA boys' dorm room, thinking about Chelsea and Zoey. They were so different, but at the same time, a little bit of each were poured into the other. And God… It was a horrible trip down memory lane at moments. But there was something about Chelsea that made him heal on the inside a little bit. But then again, half of him still wanted to be numb and ignore the pain, so that maybe it would go away and he'd never have to face it. This, Chase knew, was practically impossible so therefore he'd just see how things went.

He had had dinner an hour ago – Sushi. Which was what Zoey had been asking for and he felt terrible about having it, but he was really hungry and it was the closest thing. Sighing, he rolled over on his bed, only to find Logan watching him. Blinking, he sat upright and stared back.

"You know," Chase began, "That's really kind of creepy, man."

"No creepier than that redhead chick." Logan replied, bending over to pick up a towel.

He was heading towards the bathroom to take a shower when Chase's voice stopped him.

"What do you mean? Chelsea's normal." Chase stretched and glanced at the clock: One in the morning. Logan had been at some jock party for the graduation, no doubt, and Michael was probably… Well, with Michael, you never really did truly know.

"Whatever, man. All I know is she has wonderful assets." Logan shrugged, and entered the bathroom.

In only moments, Chase watched as steam unfurled from the crack under the door, and sighed, drifting off to sleep.

**Authors Ramble: SORRY THAT SUCKED, GUYS!**

**I'm being rushed to hurry up and get off the computer. Please read and review! Thanks!**


	4. & What Goes Around

**Authors Note:** Okay, so as most of my readers know, the last chapter basically ass. So, I hope you'll find this one a bit more pleasing, and I'll try to write more. But it's kind of hard, with tests coming up soon and such.

**Disclaimer:** You all should know this by now. Oh, and any band names you see / recognize are NOT MINE. Though I horribly wish they were.

**& Reviewers:** I love you all. gives you Nickelback t – shirts XOXO.

** .&. What Goes Around – Chapter Four**

"See you later." Were Michael's last words as he shut the door behind Logan and himself, leaving Chase feeling more boxed in. He could go to class, sure, but then he'd have to face the fact that Zoey wasn't there, and he didn't think he could deal. No… It had been a weak, but the memory was still a deep, fresh cut in his mind, a stretched full of anxiety wound that left him sickly eager for more.

Chase had to do something, however. He had faked sick the last few days. He knew everyone could see through it, but nobody had made any real protests, no… They just continued to make the suggestion that he should come to class, it'd cheer him up. They never directly mentioned Zoey. So, he couldn't be seen on campus. Even if people understood, they'd insist he go to class.

So it was with a full mind that Chase got out of bed, red boxers shining slightly more crimson in the sunlight filtering through the blinds of the window in the corner.

Dressing in a pair of jeans and a plain, black, short sleeved shirt with tennis shoes, Chase glanced up at himself in the mirror. His eyes were slightly baggy, his skin pale and his hair a mess. He hated seeing himself as such, but he couldn't help it. Depression was casting its seemingly ever - binding grip on him.

He'd just walk around the city outside campus. Yeah, that was it.

He got in his new car: A shiny black one. His parents hadn't been happy with the cost, but he wouldn't dare look at the old, red one Zoey died in, and they felt he was unsafe without a car.

Starting it up, he eased it out slowly, but quickly. No time to be wasted, since he didn't want to get caught. Driving into town, he turned on the radio. "Photograph." By Nickelback lit up the car in musical notes, and though it pained him to listen to it, he half enjoyed it all the same.

"It's hard to say it, time to say it. Goodbye, goodbye." Chase finished the song with Chad, the lead singer. It felt good to be half free, out of the binding feeling of his own room, a cell in which he spent his self inflicted torture and imprisonment.

And there she was. The same red head… Chelsea. Dressed in a pair of jeans, tennis shoes and a multicolored tank top, she sat outside a shop, her back to the wall.

Her MP3 player's headphones were in, and the music was turned up so loud that as he stopped the car on the curb in front of, "Macy's." and walked up to her slowly, he could hear From First to Last pouring from them.

Chelsea's Point of View

I could feel a presence. It filled the spaces in me I couldn't fill myself. Looking up, I saw the semi familiar face of Chase Matthews. I connected him with the death of that girl… Zoey? I had met him before. A little eccentric, but nonetheless reeking potential and cuteness. Okay, so as head of a record company I had a weird flair to my judging of people.

"Hey." The wind filtered through my hair, and I motioned for him to sit next to me, slipping off my headphones and setting them down on my lap, lifting my eyes to the sky.

"Hi." His voice was unsure, as usual. Though how could I judge, since I only just met him?

"What's up?" I asked, drawing a little design on my jeans with my finger as I waited for him to respond.

It took him a while to do so, but I wasn't one to push. I never had been, in entire truth. My mother pushed me, and I guess I just wanted – And want. – To be different from her.

Why be the same, when there are so many colors to choose from?

"Nothing." Chase finally said, watching the cars go by, the sunlight filter down.

"Nice lie." I pulled out a cigarette. Sure, it was bad for me and extra risky, since I had heart problems… But I've always looked for a faster way to die. My best friend committed suicide when I was younger, about nineteen. I loved him… And I always wonder if it's that fact that eggs me on, or am I just rushing to get to something better?

That was always my friends' first throwback in a fight. _Once you find something better, you always leave what you have, Chelsea. _

And, now I looked back on it, I suppose this was true.

"Gee, thanks." Sarcasm dripped from his voice, an enveloped secret filled with a dangerous honey that sounds so addictive.

"The pleasure is all mine." I replied, tucking a strand of red hair behind my ear.

"As it always will be." And before I knew it, he didn't have the chance to get the full sentence out.

Both our heads crashed together; a ferocious collision, but none of us seemed to actually care. Our lips twisted in a cruel harmonic fashion that brought a lurking demon to inhabit my stomach.

We were both broken. We needed comfort. Is this wrong?

And then the thing that ripped us apart; a mirror image is a far cry from that which we speak: "Chase?"


End file.
